


WandCore

by AGreatUnkindness



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:20:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29370684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AGreatUnkindness/pseuds/AGreatUnkindness
Summary: Two witches and a wizard get new wands.





	WandCore

Lydia was not as shocked as her colleagues to find out that they would get more wands. When she became a Slytherin prefect, the artist who painted her portrait had unravelled a canvas, carrying-pouch that contained what she assumed were regular paintbrushes. This had shocked her. Someone who painted a moving portrait would use muggle paintbrushes. That maybe it was the paint itself that must be mixed with a magical medium but on further investigation, and the painter was not overly enthusiastic or forthcoming with all the details, he did disclose that all of the paintbrushes were in fact wands. Yes, the paints were mixed with magical medium but each color each shade were separate preparations and that even the same color, depending on the layer of the painting, might be its own formulation. Yes, it would take months to finish but no, she would not have to sit for the entire process. Yes, she would have final approval of the portrait and would she please just sit still!

Dylan watched over the proceedings and yawned openly. This was always exciting for new cursebreakers but not so much for him. He could not keep the wandlore straight and learned over time that some of the suspicions and rhymes used to keep track of wands were nothing more than nonsense. How many people died before they even got to use the new set of wands? Many. One person, from this cohort, in fact would die and not even in a magical way. Dylan had been confused when he’d first met him. He hadn’t chosen him. He yawned a shallow yawn again.

The trick to get through the Department of Mysteries was to stand still. The room spinning and the blurred candles were an intuitive and accurate but showy way of proving that people naturally disorient themselves but Orbsy disliked the process all the same. She closed her eyes and heard the old stone walls grind and scrape against itself. She smelled the dust in the air. Even as she stood still he felt like she was spinning and not the room itself. The noise became slower and she had done this enough to know not to open her eyes too soon or she would feel even dizzier and she might as well have kept her eyes open. This was, more than anywhere in the Ministry, one of the places where someone had taken the care to ensure that every magical protection was doubly in place. Even she couldn’t apparate in and out of this room. She was to serve as an escort to the wandmaker. She sighed. Orbly, Ordly, none of the above and something else or nothing at all. Today she might have preferred the latter. Her head hurt and she really hoped the ceremony would be quick so she could get back to her work.

Everyone in the department certainly, and nearly everyone in the building had passed through Ollivander’s family’s shop to get a wand and so he couldn’t go through the Ministry lobby. It would raise too much suspicion. He was on official, private business. This was business he was called in for. This was business that he rearranged his schedule for. Ollivander listened closely for a small “pop”. The house elf appeared, they naturally took each other’s hand, after ensuring the sizable case Ollivander cradled to his chest was secured, then another pop, and they were gone.

Lydia asked markedly fewer questions after the painter handed over a vial and asked her to fill it with blood. She leaned in as if she hadn’t her him well enough and all of her facial features felt they were drawn into the middle of her face as if her nose were a magnet. The painter breathed heavily and said nothing knowing very well what Lydia was thinking.

“For the painting”, he said, as if that meant anything to her.

After confirming that this was a legitimate Slytherin tradition, she procured a vial of something that may or may not have been blood and was only hers because she was now in possession of it and gave it to the painter. He looked at the vial over his glasses and then at Lydia who sat to pose where she had become increasingly bored by the process even as it became less frequent. The painter tipped not-Lydia’s-blood onto what appeared to be a new silver easel with little hills of white, brown, green, black and blue and red paint in different hues. The painter dropped a drop of blood onto each and mixed them with separate spatulas. He took out one of the painting wands and dabbed it in one of the paint hues. Lydia watched as the process took place at an angle where she might catch some of what he was doing.

“Will the blood, my blood, have an effect on the painting?” Lydia asked stunned before the paint wand hit the canvas.

The painter popped his head out from behind his easel said nothing and disappeared behind it again. He caught much of what his sitting subjects did and said and paid close attention to how they said it. He too caught, Lydia pull a face of concern, exhale deeply and then shrug it of with genuine resignation. The painter smiled to himself which Lydia could not see. He enjoyed that he was a great artist and that he could capture the essence of who his sitters were. He had been called to great homes in his day but when he had the time, preferred the Hogwarts portraits the best. Lydia only saw the paintbrushes but he had a graphite holder to draw the Ravenclaw portraits whose medium was faster to make and sometimes made by the students themselves. A burnt feather from a local owl, the feather from a magical bird usually from his own collection, the yolk of jobberknoll (also from his collection) and lilac water. He had time to answer their questions and the drawings were looser and less formal. Some of them were his favorite pieces of his career but he knew most wouldn’t last for very long. The portraits in the drawings smudged and streaked until the paper was just a dark grey rectangle depending on how active the image in the drawing was. But he appreciated the lengths and ingenuity of the Slytherins to get his request for blood. Another unspoken tradition was that none of the Slytherin prefects who sat for portraits used their own blood. He appreciated Lydia’s vial because, at least, this behaved like the real thing but was obviously not. As he tipped the vial when a drop hit the paint, a light fragrance of petrichor and hyacinths rose from the solution and he thought he heard the sound of very distant laughter.

Ollivander had, in fact, been entrusted with making the very wands that the painter had used in Lydia’s portrait and several before hers. The painter had a number of requests and Ollivander had done his best to accomodate them. Things like the painter’s brushes, the broom makers and star chart makers had esoteric and often specific requests and it was a challenge he delighted in to know or learn more of the wandlore to craft or procure the parts required. The painter requested the brushes be a certain length and shape, that the bristles be made of a certain material that would not conflict with the paint, and the core be related to his everyday wand which he believed might be confused with the inclusion of so many more wands in the form of paintbrushes. Ollivander had assured the painter, not unkindly, that he would worry about the compatibility and efficacy of the construction and to worry about his art. When the painter finally received and used the first set, he placed an order for the graphite holder some years later. Another satisfied customer in the Ollivander tradition. Maybe even better than his father, thought the painter!

Ollivander felt the blindfold that had made it onto his eyes mid-apparition tighten and felt the elf let go his hand. He heard the grinding and smelled the dust and, even as he told himself not too, spun around trying to make sense of where he was while clutching the package to his chest. He hated this part. He felt dizzy and his stomach lurched. The only problem now with doing this is he no longer had too much advanced notice. He thanked the stars he hadn’t had coffee this morning. The elf grabbed his hand and walked him around in a circle to reorient them or he didn’t know why. Orbsy did it for house elves everywhere. She smiled a smile Ollivander couldn’t see. They walked into another space that felt cooler and smaller for the echo of his shoes against a paving stone. The elf let go of his hand again. He also didn’t like this part. He couldn’t remove the blindfold even if he had wanted to and couldn’t try to since he would not jeopardize the safety of the package by putting it on the floor to try.

“He-, hello?”, he asked carefully. The blindfold seemed to melt away from his face and Dylan stood before him in a much smaller room than he had felt like they were in. Ollivander could see Dylan’s lips moving but couldn’t hear the words.

“I can’t hear you” he said. Dylan waved his wand and Ollivander felt like who could hear his own footsteps moments before felt like something in his ears had been unstoppered shook his head a little at the sensation.

“Better?” Dylan asked.

“Yes!” explained Ollivander louder than he intended.

Ollivander could tell Dylan resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Well, let’s get started then.” Dylan said flatly and gestured with a nod behind him. Ollivander turned to find a long familiar table with a wizard and witches standing quietly and politely behind him.

Dylan started explaining as Ollivander set his case on the table and opened it up gingerly not looking at the three people in front of him. This part he enjoyed.

“Today, all of you will be receiving new wands.”, he intoned. “Ollivander is here to facilitate the selection and creation of a new one.” Collin made a long exhalation.

“Yes.” Dylan replied curtly.

“What if we like the ones we already have and we can assure you they are in good working order?”

Ollivander unpacked several cases, and knew that for all that Dylan may actually dislike this or many other parts of his job that he was highly aware of what he was saying and the way he said it.

“You will keep and use your old wand as well as this new one.”

Ollivander heard the gasps come from the three before him.

He heard one of the witches ask, “We will have more than one working wand? Really?” She sounded delighted like a new student in his own shop. He smiled but only in his mind. Ollivander felt the three of them watching him more intently than they had, trying to see what was in each case. He arranged everything and removed his own generalist wand. Dylan finished what he needed to say in as clipped a tone as he could say it and Ollivander finally looked up and was able to get a better idea of who stood in front of him. Ah, yes.

“Apple wood, eleven-inches, dragon heart-strings. A very reliable wand for a steadfast and clear minded witch.” Prisha beamed. “How have you found it to work?” Ollivander asked warmly.

“Reliably and comfortably, Mr. Ollivander.” She replied, it was she who asked about getting another set of wands.

Next up, “Sycamore, was it?” Collin also smiled. “Unicorn hair core. Also eleven inches.”

“Yes, sir.” Collin replied. Dylan could see that Collin appeared to push out his chest a little more.

“The wand of an adventurer.”

“Sir.” Collin’s eyes shimmered and Dylan dropped his head and tightened his arms across his chest. Collin, he thought to himself has to be related to someone at the ministry. He just had to be.

Ollivander nodded. “Miss Fawley!”, he exclaimed.

Was she older than he thought? She couldn’t be. He had sold her her wand. She seemed a little young to be here. She looked youngish. Ollivander gave a slight bow and Lydia felt Collin readjust his height and hands.

“Mr. Ollivander.”

Dylan looked up over his brows and smiled to see Collin squirm.

“Yes, father: Rowan wand, ten inches, unicorn hair. Mother, Beech, ten and half inches, phoenix feather.” Ollivander shook his head in affirmation. “Walnut. ten and a half inches. Dragon heart string.” Very beautiful combination for a family. A great variety.” He shook his head with satisfaction.

Lydia thought he had confused her parents wand types but said nothing.

“Well, let’s get to it shall we?”

Ollivander opened the cases of the raw material which was set on boards or trays. No one could touch the component parts so they were levitated and each of them took turns. Ollivander explained to Prisha as Collin and Lydia stepped back so they could discuss. Then Collin. When it was Lydia’s turn, the last of the three, Ollivander explained that they would find the component parts for her new wand today and, to do so, she could touch none of what was set in front of her given the work she might be doing at the ministry and in the field, no one could. Did she understand, yes she did. She held one hand out, palm up and with the other held her wand perpendicular over the other open palm as instructed. One of the trays levitated and was covered with different material of various colors and textures. The tray floated beneath her opened palm back and forth along the axis of her wand. The tray stopped. A bundle of dragon heart string knotted itself into a tangle. The tray moved back and forth under her hand again. This could take all day. Dylan knew that, for all that wands could be unpredictable they had passed the danger zone. At least none of their wands had exploded in protest with the knowledge that it would share its wizard or witch with multiple other wands. His had after all and he had had to go to Diagon Alley and get another wand from Ollivander’s like a first-year not knowing how common it actually was.

The tray stopped again and the phoenix feathers underneath burned themselves into a pile of ash. The tray moved a last time and stopped over the unicorn hair. A strand floated up passed through Lydia’s hand and stay put in her palm. Ollivander moved some cases around. He repeated the procedure with another tray. This tray contained many more materials many of which Lydia could identify and some she could not. This time the tray passed under her hand, erratically as if something in the tray were changing its mind. Sometimes the tray would stop and material on it changed form. Then it stopped under her hand for a measure and what appeared to be a long thin feather with a little purple collection of feathers at the end drifted up through her hand to sit with the unicorn hair.

“Please offer the unicorn hair to me.” Lydia set her wand down and handed Ollivander the unicorn hair. Ollivander slowly but deliberately moved the unicorn hair onto a case lined with velvet. “The other feather is actually fro-“

“A fwooper tailfeather?” Lydia said.

“Yes!” Ollivander said pleasantly surprised. “Please set the feather in the case on the other side of the unicorn hair which Lydia did with great care.

A tray of wood was then levitated under Lydia’s hands and this took the least time. The tray levitated unsure of where to go. Ollivander knit his brow and then he noticed the silver band with a rock on her middle finger. Ah, that’s why she didn’t get dragon heartstrings like her original wand, Ollivander thought.

“Is that a wedding band, Miss Fawley? Please move it to your other hand.” She did and the tray this time stopped under her hand. Vine. “Please set it in the case with the feather and unicorn hair.” Ollivander instructed.

Ollivander closed the case and a band of what might have been hot lead wound itself over the case like string. Ollivander magicked Lydia’s name in embossing onto the case and took it from the air nestling it with the other cases and trays and boards stacked into the larger case he had carried in.

When all of them were called back to the table he explained they would be getting their new wands shortly and that it was imperative, this time when they did, to not wear jewelry of any kind and to inform him of any magical markings or ritualized scarification now. That they could not imbibe any potions at least twenty-four hours beforehand but Dylan would inform them of when that was and that, witches and some wizards too, would have to remove any non muggle nail polish. Dylan stepped forward nodding his head and thanked everyone for being patient with the process though he never really needed to do this. They nodded in agreement through barely contained smiles. They would all have new wands shortly. Dylan explained that this was to be kept a secret and the paperwork, and he motioned toward Lydia, would be forthcoming. Dylan ensured Ollivander’s case was secure. Ollivander felt a blindfold squeeze around his eyes, felt his ears stop up and, yet, still heard the sound of a small creature clear its throat. The house elf. After walking he could feel the room get larger, he smelled stone and dust and felt himself spin. When he was able to open his eyes again, he was where he had been when the house elf had originally picked him up but this time she hadn't bothered to wait to ensure that he was alright. That wasn't her job. He just barely heard the pop of her apparate away as his ears unstuffed themselves for the second time that day.

Lydia, like Dorcas, would be in possession of multiple wands over her lifetime. The first was walnut. The second, which was the wood from Dorcas’ first wand and were told outright it would not work, was Hazel. The one she would get for work would be vine and the fourth and fifth were made of willow. All of them except the one with vine would share the same core.


End file.
